by
Dr. Martin Luther King Delivered
on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C on August 28,
1963
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow
we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree
came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves
who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came
as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.
But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the
Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the
Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and
the chains of discrimination. One hundred years alter, the Negro
lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean
of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still
languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself
an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize
an appalling condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check.
When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of
the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing
a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This
note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable
rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted
on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned.
Instead of honoring
this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad
check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But
we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse
to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults
of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check,
a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the
security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind
America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in
the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.
Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation
to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the
doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to
lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid
rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the
urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the
Negro. This
sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass
until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen
sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the
Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have
a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There
will be neither rest nor tranquillity in America until the Negro
is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will
continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright
day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to
my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the
palace of justice.
In the
process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of
wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom
by drinking
from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our
struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not
allow our creative protest
to degenerate
into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic
heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous
new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead
us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers,
as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize
that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom
is inextricably
bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must
make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back.
There are those who
are asking the devotees
of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never
be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel,
cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels
of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic
mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be
satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro
in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we
are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls
down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here
out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh
from narrow
cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom
left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the
winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative
suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering
is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back
to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos
of our northern
cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I HAVE A DREAM
I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties
and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream.
It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will
rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold
these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia
the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners
will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi,
a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and
oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and
justice.
I have a dream that my four children will one day live in
a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their
skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose
governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition
and nullification, will be transformed into a situation
where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands
with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters
and brothers.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every
hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places
will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight,
and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall
see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South.
With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair
a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the
jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.
With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together,
to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom
together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children
will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis
of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers
died, land of the
pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So
let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let
freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring
from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom
ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that;
let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring
from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill
and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom
ring.
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring
from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every
city, we will be able
to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white
men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to
join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free
at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!